The Head Trauma Club
by Father of Understanding
Summary: This is a Peter "Pietro" Maximoff x Reader fanfic. Takes place in The Days of Future Past.


**(This was just something I wanted to write.)**

* * *

It was a sunny Wednesday afternoon. You had finished you college homework hours ago, so you were just lazing around, hoping Pietro - er, "Peter" - would come over. You hated to admit that you may have had a crush on him.

Okay, crush was too weak a word. Try infatuation.

You knew about his mutation. It helped that you had one of your own. His was super speed, all that fun fast stuff. Yours was a little more interesting: time.

Of course, you could only hold up with time manipulation for thirty seconds of your time, and you couldn't straight on stop it, but it was better than nothing.

You may have been hoping for Peter to come over, but you didn't actually expect him to. You weren't expecting anyone over, actually, so you were surprised when you heard a knock at the door. Your parents were on their honeymoon, making you the dictator of the house, and you younger siblings shouldn't be home until nine, so who could that be? You walked over toward the door, confident it was no one that could threaten you.

Just in case, you picked up your lucky baseball bat on the way.

Slowly, you unlatched the door and pulled it open. There was a breeze right by you, but you didn't think very much of it as you were trying to figure out who knocked. "Hello?" You called, looking around a little. After a few more seconds, you shrugged and shut the door.

The silver-haired man on your couch took you completely by surprise.

In your defense, you didn't mean to do it. You just did it. Unconsciously slowing down time, you ran toward him, swinging the bat around wildly. There was a hollow clang as the metal cracked against a skull and the person flopped onto the group, lifeless. You calmed down, the threat now neutralized, and you poked him to make sure he wasn't getting up anytime soon. Then you realized you knew someone with that exact color of hair, that same jacket.

Oh, shoot.

"Peter!" You cried, tossing the bat away - somehow avoiding breaking anything - and kneeling by his side. You carefully rolled him onto his back, checking for a pulse. If you just broke his neck. . . . It was bad enough to have hit your kleptomaniac friend over the head with a chunk of metal! Luckily, you found it soon, proof you hadn't killed your best friend.

Of course, there was the problem of his comatose state now.

"Peter, wake up!" You whisper-yelled at him at the top of your lungs, poking his cheek.

No movement.

"Come on, Pete. Don't give up on me now."

"Pietro Maximoff, get up NOW!"

At the sound of his real name, Peter's electric blue eyes snapped open and he sat up in a blur. "(Y/n)?" He asked, blinking rapidly. "I thought I told you never to call me -"

You didn't let him finish, cutting him off in a bone-crushing hug. You let go and smacked him. "And I thought I told you not to come into my house unless I see you before you enter. Why are you here anyway?"

"Well, my Timey Wimey friend, three fellow mutants came by my home, asking -"

"The short version, please."

"Do you want to break into the Pentagon with me?"

* * *

Not exactly what you would call a normal first date, but it was nice enough. You, Logan, Hank, Peter, and Charles got in easily, got to Erik, and got out. To think you only got one concussion from it.

The others were gone, leaving you and Peter at your house. Both of you had ice packs on your heads as you nursed the injuries and keeping yourselves entertained with Tom and Jerry.

"You still haven't answered my question about why you hit me in the head with a bat." Peter said slyly, suddenly on the couch right by you.

You shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Let's form the 'Head Trauma Club: Mutant Edition.' Sounds like it should kill some time."

Peter laughed softly, a sound you rarely heard. He laughed, yeah, but this time it was normal speed. "I call president!"

"It was my idea."

"I got hit first."

You muttered something under your breath, leaning against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. "You know, why did you actually sound normal just now and not like a broken sound recorder?"

"Ever heard some people are worth going slow for? Well, you're one of them."


End file.
